


Caffeine and High Fructose Crack

by ChibisUnleashed



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, because I write fluff and crack, because Seifer curses a lot, here we go again, like a lot, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 03:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed
Summary: Based on the tumblr Imagine your OTP prompt: where one is the Fully Functional Adult™ and the other has been living off of coffee and fruit snacks for three days straight.Except that Seifer and Squall are both. Both of them are both, because everybody in FF8 functions, but none of them do it particularly well, let's be honest. Enjoy!





	Caffeine and High Fructose Crack

**Author's Note:**

> So I said to my girlfriend, I said, "I wanna write one of those huge epic AU plots so I can write all the domestic bliss add-on sequels like everybody does. Domestic fluff is my jam."
> 
> So she says to me, she says, "You could write a Coffee and Fruit Snacks with Seifer and Squall."
> 
> ..."But they would be both."
> 
> AKA thank her.

It seemed like a dream that the stupid little kids pack fruit snacks were on a buy one get one free special.

It quickly became a nightmare when Seifer saw there was only one box left of the very berry dinosaur shapes left.

And some other asshole was reaching for it.

With an athletic lunge, Seifer got his hands on it in time to at least make the question of who got there first a  _ little  _ fuzzy. It could have been fuzzier, but Seifer would take what he could get. 

The other guy did not give. His grip was like fucking iron and there was the promise of death, honest to God  _ death,  _ in his eyes. But Seifer had a report due to his boss first thing in the morning, so death didn't scare him.

Going a night without very berry dinosaurs  _ did. _

Still, it only took about thirty seconds of being a grown ass man fighting over a box of gummies in the middle of a grocery store aisle for Seifer to rethink his life. Or at least his current choices.

Seifer didn’t let up his grip, but he did stop pulling, “Wait. I have a proposition.”

“I’m not fucking you.”

Seifer stared for a solid ten seconds before he could get his mouth to work again, “Wait, hold up, is that literally the only offer anyone has ever made to you such that it’s the  _ only  _ context you’ve ever heard the word, ‘proposition,’ used in, before?”

...The guy pulled harder.

“No, God damn it,” Seifer got back to pulling, “Look, it’s a buy one get one deal, so let’s split the cost of two and when we get outside, put half of this box in that one and half of that one in this one so we each at least get  _ some  _ of our favorite and we can move on with our lives.”

The murderer actually had to think about it, and as annoyed as Seifer was, he let him. There was actual shit Seifer needed to do tonight, so time was of the essence, but physical fighting over fruit snacks just didn’t seem worth it. Really, the deal was obvious, but if the pretty serial killer needed to think about it, fine, whatever.

Eventually, he scoffed, “Fine, whatever.”

...Seifer was not going to think too hard about potential mind-reading, he was just going to take the win. “Right, which other flavor do you want? I’m partial toward Spider-man.”

If looks could kill, “Strawberry or Finding Dory, no exceptions.”

“Dory’s great,” Seifer said, grabbing the second box off the shelf, “I like Dory.” He tried to move toward the registers, except the homicidal beauty wouldn’t let go of the box, “Do you mind?”

Eyebrows furrowed over slate blue eyes, “How can I trust you?”

“They’re kids’ Goddamn fruit snacks,” Seifer declared, letting go just to make a point, “I can pay you back with cash. Let’s just get to the fucking register, alright? I’ve got a job I don’t want to lose.”

The pretty executioner eyed him distrustfully the entire way to the front of the store, but to be fair, Seifer wouldn’t let him out of his peripherals in case the asshole made a break for it. He went through the register first, just to hurry shit along, then waited (im)patiently at the end for the slayer to follow suit.

And because he was there, it was convenient, and he could, Seifer made a point of watching over his shoulder to read the name on the stranger’s credit card. Squall. That was unusual as fuck.

“Huh,” Seifer huffed unthinkingly, “Creative parents.”

He earned a glare for his efforts, and Seifer was almost positive he was going to be accused of something, but then the killer beauty rolled his eyes, “You, too.”

Mother fucker did the same spying on him. And he had the nerve to act offended? Definitely an asshole. Outloud, Seifer only made an uncertain sound and asked, “Were they really?”

“Seifer’s an unusual name.”

“More common than Squall,” Seifer shrugged, “and way less cool of a meaning, although I honestly don’t think I have ever, in my life, heard squall used in a sentence, so I guess there’s that.” 

Squall let him ramble his way all the way out the door before they stopped to exchange prisoners. Seifer shuffled around in his wallet for  _ half  _ the cost of a  _ single  _ box of children’s fruit snacks, which was, seriously, a pittance amount but whatever. It was the deal. And he rounded up the cents to the nearest quarter because that was a waste of time Seifer was unwilling to indulge. 

He counted out half the packets of high fructose crack and moved them in one handful into Squall’s box, which was the very berry dinos because the high fashion terminator wouldn’t let go of it for a second, and waited to have the favor returned before saluting sloppily and heading out into the parking lot.

“See ya ‘round,  _ Squall.”  _

Seifer listened for a second or two then gave it up. He figured silence would be his response to that. 

It wasn’t until roughly two in the morning, when Seifer was at least ten pages into his report and grappling with excel to  _ draw the fucking table correctly  _ ** _fuck _ ** that he reached into the box of snacks and pulled out not a tiny package of plastic and legal cocaine, but a business card with a phone number on it. 

Sly son of a bitch. “That’s a creative way to score a date,” Seifer smirked to himself and put the card down beside his laptop. 

He’d call it tomorrow.  _ After  _ work. Make the fucker wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think maybe Xu functions pretty well. If I had to pick one of them.


End file.
